


All Night, Stagefright

by EricTheAbstract (orphan_account)



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Bad Flirting, British Slang, Character Study, Corgis, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Holding Hands, Insecurity, Loss of Parent(s), Pillow Talk, Poetry, Post-War, Relationship Discussions, Self Confidence Issues, Slice of Life, Tea, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8314447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/EricTheAbstract
Summary: "You just jump into it, Traynor. You stay strong, weather her storm, and get her back to bed, because you are not sleeping in that bloody ice box alone. A good Specialist doesn't leave her Commander alone in the field."Or: Shepard's a mess, not knowing what to do now that she's retired. Sam provides some much needed emotional support and displays a hidden talent, their dog keeps Shepard safe, and two dorks bond over tea.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song Stagefright by Def Leppard.

"Hey, Ol' Man, You home tonight? Can you spare a minute? It's about time we had a little talk." The words drift through the room, quieter then a church wake, yet Sam had grown accustomed to picking up small bits of noise. Even if they'd included Shepard's ramblings at fuck o' clock in the morning. Spreading an arm over to the other side, Sam feels the warmth dissipating from where her partner had been haphazardly dozing only minutes before.

The door slides shut, the near silent hum causing Sam to crack an eye open. 

"Guess the war still rages on," she murmurs in a daze to the reply of silence, the light from the fish tank casting an ethereal glow on her skin. The fish swim lazily, drifting in the water to and fro, and as she lays there nestled in the blankets, watching them, Sam wonders if Shepard will ever stay tethered to the here and now. She'll always treasure Shepard, but she wishes the past could just stay the past and that Shepard could find her peace of mind.

' _Once more, unto the breach, dear friends.'_

Rising up from the bed, she gives an undignified squawk as her feet hit the wooden floor. She likes sleeping in a cold room, but cuddling with Shepard means you resign your nights to being locked in a freezer. Sam's got a running discussion with some of the others crew who've had to talk to Shepard on the Normandy while seeing their breath trail through her cabin, fingers and extremities tingling. _"Shepard would just smile, sipping her tea, said she preferred it over how she felt after Mindoir, hot and dead and soaked in blood," Garrus had once confided in her when the relationship was still taking its first tentative steps forward._

_Sam had choked down whatever she was going to say next, head spinning over the thought of Shepard having seen her parents gunned down in front of her. She had made a note to talk about it in the future, because even the Commander who gave out hugs to everyone and had the kindest heart Sam had ever seen didn't deserve to be buried under such a weight_. For someone who got blasted into the icy abyss as the Normandy burned, as no one noticed her passing, Shepard has a strange relationship with the simple things, simple things that lesser people would've taken as is and not given a second thought. 

_'Maybe that's why you've stuck by her, for the simple things'_ The thought bounces around in Sam's head as she goes to wrap a bathrobe around herself. No point becoming a human popsicle on the way to a fight. She'd have this small little battle every time she awoke, whether now or back when she'd snared Shepard with her snarky wit and her hands on approach to intimacy. Wondering if Shepard thought her too untested a soldier to love her. Someone who appreciated books and tea over the adrenaline rush of dodging death's elongated grasp. What if she couldn't live up to Shepard's expectations? It was a silly thought, but like Shepard's own insecurities, it laid festering in her chest, ready to stab whenever someone would visit the apartment, talking with Shepard about the war or chasing after Saren like they were the good old days. 

_'Stop worrying, you ninny. There's other things at stake then Shepard smashing your heart against the rocks.'_

With that, the roaring chant of _'worthless, worthless, worthless,'_ that had been playing in Sam's head ebbed away, replaced by happier thoughts. Thoughts of the future and promises whispered before Jane had thrust herself into the gaping maw of oblivion, rushing off across blackened fields and over blood soaked corpses to pitch a Hail Mary against the Reapers. 

_**"** I want a big house, white picket fence, and a dog, some kind of retriever. I’m thinking two kids, but… Are you writing this down?"_  
_Shepard had smiled like an idiot, even as Sam struggled to get the words out. She'd taken the other woman's hands in hers, rubbing calloused fingers over her knuckles. "I’ll remember."_  
_Sam had smiled, moving forward to take Shepard in her arms, resting her chin on her Commanders shoulder. Whether she was keeping herself grounded so Shepard wouldn't turn incorporeal and drift on a passing breeze, or keeping Shepard grounded so she'd have a home to come back to after this was all over, Sam wasn't sure. You damn well better. Whatever happens… I love you."_

That'd been three months ago. Now they had a home, and Shepard had retired, so why were these thoughts still festering behind Sam's heart? 

Shaking her head, she pushed herself to walk out the door, steps light as a feather as she rushed down the steps, not wanting to think about getting cold feet and giving Shepard 'space.' 

The last thing Shepard needed was to be alone. She'd had enough of that for three lifetimes, let alone one. 

Reaching the floor, their corgi, who'd been resting quietly on the couch, bound for her like a flash of lightning, yapping and wagging its tail, ready to fend off any danger that may come to its master. Sadly, that included any intrusion from it's other master, much to Sam's chagrin. "Yappy little shit," she mutters, rolling her eyes as their guard dog rolls on its back, wiggling its paws and looking up at her with wide eyes. She smiles, bending down to rub Ian's tummy, feeling the soft warm fur against her fingers. 

"I guess I don't mind keeping you around." she whispers in a teasing manner; Shepard had been dead set on getting a corgi, and had spent a considerable amount of time scrolling though adoption sites while recovering in the hospital, which had mystified Sam. Yet like everything else, Sam had grown to Ian, the excited little terror making for a good foot warmer on the nights that the AC caused her toes to go numb. Rising to her feet, she looked over to see Jane staring into her cup of tea like it held the answers to the mystery of life itself, hunched over, fingers threaded around the cup, half smile tugging at her lips as the passing Citadel traffic cast elongated shadows on her pale skin.

Sam tries not to notice the bags under Shepard's eyes. The way she leans back from crouching over the cup into the couch, half slumped and looking like she had after they peeled her out from her blood soaked armor after the Crucible fired, a barely kept together mess of flesh and cybernetics and classic Shepard stubborness.

A minute pause filled the air as Shepard twitches her head, ever so slightly, so that she looks Sam straight in the eyes. The half smile turns into a full one, though it doesn't relieve the worry Sam still feels burning under her skin. 

_'You don't need to be so bloody strong all the time.'_

"Saved you a cup," Shepard mumbles, giving a slight wave of the hand towards the kitchen, a cup still steaming on the counter. 

Sam frowns, but walks to the kitchen, grasping the cup in her hands, prepping for the final push. 

"You just jump into it, Traynor. You stay strong, weather her storm, and get her back to bed, because you are not sleeping in that bloody ice box alone. A good Specialist doesn't leave her Commander alone in the field." The words come out a whisper, barely above the hum of the refrigerator. 

Taking a deep breath, Sam makes the proverbial jump. No parachute, no medic, no backup. Just her, Shepard, and Ian off to parachute over the minefield and into the safe arms of domesticity. Because Shepard deserves it, more then anyone Sam knows.  A thought sparks in her head, a final plan of what Shepard had to look forward to, once Sam gets her out of the minefield.  I _an would be dozing on the floor, wagging its tail and dreaming dreams of its two masters giving it tummy rubs and walking it through fancy art galleries._

_Shepard would have smudges of paint on her face from painting the apartment, and firelight would dance on Sam's skin as she flicked through page after page. They'd have, a whole stack of books, the best tea kit, or maybe they'd live somewhere quiet on Earth, not out in the wilderness but near a city. Somewhere suburban, and wouldn't that be a hoot? Jane Shepard, retired N7 Marine, maintaining the front lawn while Sam cooks breakfast, the Union Jack flying over the house, the smell of Shepard's pie making the house feel properly British and domestic._

Sam gives a little smile at the thought of Jane the suburbanite replacing Jane the Commander, so she does what Shepard advised her the first day they met. "Trust in me, and don't be afraid to make the jump." 

Taking a sip of her tea, Sam walks back to the couch, chuckling at how Ian rests on the floor, tail twitching as Shepard lay sprawled out on the couch, head at one end, legs at the other, eyes giving off a far-away look as the light from the fireplace gave her skin an orange, incandescent glow. 

Setting her cup on the table, a sudden thought comes to her.

She remembered some verse she'd read at Oxford, which she thought might help get Shepard out of her funk. Being a Specialist meant she'd had plenty of downtime to solidify her dashing geekiness between testing communication relays, playing chess, and reading sappy romantic poetry. Ashley had been hard to shake off on the Normandy once she'd found out Sam's love of poetry, the two women had instantly become friends. Because nothing says friendship like reading Tennyson or Sassoon and waxing poetic about past failed relationships.

Shepard certainly kept a strange crew in her orbit. 

"Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books;

Or surely you'll grow double:

Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;

Why all this toil and trouble?" 

Even if the words don't fall gracelessly from her lips so much as tumble onto the floor in a heap, a blind man couldn't have missed Shepard's lips turning into a small smile, chuckling as she reached for Sam's hand. Sam takes it, and sat down on the couch, moving her free hand so Shepard could rest her head in her lap. Shepard, never one to turn down napping in women's laps, shimmied so her feet laid on the armrest at the far end of the couch, head resting comfortably in Sam's lap as she looks up at the other woman.

Shepard's quirks an eyebrow, rubbing circular patterns around Sam's wrist, Sam resting her free hand against Shepard's cheek. 

"You think you can just serenade me with bad poetry and think I'll instantly feel better?" Her voice is a little raspy, half serious, and Sam just gives a cheeky little grin, moving down to kiss Shepard's forehead. 

"No, I'm prepared to storm the castle if it means my favorite Commander doesn't have to be afraid of the dark."

Shepard snorts, but her smiles grows a little bigger, and Sam's heart booms in her chest. 

"Careful there, brave knight, ye' old princess is protected by some scary dragons." 

Sam rolls her eyes, but leans over awkwardly to take another sip of her tea, takes in the scent of it and the coconut scent of Shepard's shampoo. 

"Also, favorite Commander? Do I need to tie you up Specialist, because I will if it means I get to keep you to myself."

Sam feels her heart skip a beat, her cheeks are definitely not burning. Shepard's sprouting a shit-eating grin, so at least she's on the ground floor. 

"Hush, love. You know I'll follow you to the ends of the Earth and back. Plus, I rather like the idea of being tied up, you coming to my rescue; all guns blazing and wearing your casual Spacer outfit."

Shepard groans, rubs a hand against her face in an exasperated manner. "You just like it because it shows off more skin then any of my other outfits." 

Sam gives a huff, smile twisting into a slight frown as she lifts Shepard up, the redhead resting against her shoulder, arms wrapped around each other. 

"Your skin, like the rest of you, deserves to be cherished, Shepard. I don't know what those voices in your head tell you at night, but I'm not going anywhere." 

Shepard's frowning now, shutting her eyes as she stifles a sob. Sam rubs her back as she takes in a deep breath. 

"It's so exhausting. I can't go anywhere without people bombarding me with questions. 'Thank you, Commander' this, and 'Shepard, can you donate some time to help out our foundation!' that." "Why can't I have some peace and quiet?"

_'Because people don't see you like I see you,'_ a part of Sam thinks, thinking back to the utter chaos that'd been Shepard leaving the hospital, not in one piece but certainly together as they'd been bombarded; salvo after salvo of questions about what was next in Jane's illustrious career. 

Shepard had been the same pale mess she was now, and Sam burned that same goal in her heart, to give Shepard a place where no one expected anything of her. She'd crawl through hell and back, if it meant she and Shepard could walk through the Citadel like a normal couple, if it meant Shepard didn't get depressed every time she'd see a child playing with their parents. If it meant Shepard could live for herself, rather then having to live for everyone else and their high expectations. Sam couldn't shut Shepard off from the world, but she could offer her arms and her love and whatever else she could if it meant Shepard could live, rather then live on the knife edge she'd been standing on since she was sixteen and Anderson had found her clutching a gun, looking beaten down and frightened and covered in blood. 

Sam closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and narrows her gaze to Jane's face. Every scar, every freckle, every twitch of her eyes, all filed away for memory. Jane nearly became a phantom in her life once, she won't let it happen again. "I know everyone still expects a lot out of you, but I promise I'll do my best to give you the life you deserve. One where we paint that house and we read books and make love in a field and find time away from everyone else's bollocks." 

Shepard closes her eyes, breathing slow and steady. "Sound's good," she mumbles, and Sam kisses her forehead, motherly and soft and burning with intense passion. Sam was never one for half-arsed displays of affection. Rising to her feet with the other woman cradled in her arms, Sam quickly ghosts across the floor and up the stairs, Shepard barely moving as the Specialist nudges her way back into her room, their room. Carefully setting Jane on the bed like one would handle a rare family heirloom, Sam discards the robe and crawls into bed, pulling the blanket up so it covers up to their shoulders. She rests one elbow on the bed, hand on cheek so she can look at Jane. 

Shepard's not looking spectacular; the light from the fish-tank makes the bags stand out, and she's lost a bit of the muscle and the slight tan she'd built up from years of training and galaxy traveling. She's pale and a little less bulky, but Sam just smiles, brushing her free hand on Shepard's stomach, finger-light touch ghosting Shepard's skin under the blanket as Shepard hums, nuzzles deeper into the pillow. The light is still there, burning behind Shepard's eyes, so Sam makes a vow to keep it burning no matter how bad things get. She knew what she signed up for when she and Shepard first got together, and she's not about to back down now. 

"I play for keeps, don't you know?" Sam whispers into the dark abyss, quieter then bedtime prayer, removing her hand so she can rest against Shepard, placing an arm across her Commanders's chest. Shepard's warm, like a six foot tall sun, dispensing light and hope in her wake. But this is peacetime now, and Shep still has to learn that there are no more fights to fight, no more bad guys to chase with a crew of misfits and an AI who definitely doesn't have a sexy voice.

Feeling Shepard's soft breathing start to lull her to sleep, Sam wraps a leg around Jane, making sure her Commander doesn't abound off into the night again. 

"I love you, and I'll spend the rest of my life showing you that, but darling, there is no way in God's green Earth we are teaching our little ones how to disembowel space pirates. We're better then that. I want my children to have at least some civility." 

Shepard just smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the opening line is from the church scene in Cool Hand Luke.
> 
> Also, the bit of verse Sam recites for Shepard is from The Tables Turned by William Wordsworth.
> 
> No, I'm not sorry.


End file.
